Date: Mon, 07 Oct 2002 22:18:43 -0400
From: Fiddlecub
Subject: Dad's Winter Visit, Part 3
Dad's Winter Visit: Part 3
By Fiddlecub
As much as I wanted as many chances as possible to fuck with
Dad in the next few weeks, we never found many
opportunities. In a quick chat, we both agreed that frequent
nighttime visits were a bad idea. If Mom could find me
jacking off in front of the TV, it was only a matter of time
before she found Dad porking my ass. Unfortunately, Mom
didn't have a job, so while the "man-to-man" talk excuse
worked once, Dad couldn't continue to use it as a means to
get her out of the house. We knew we would have to look for
chances, but our busy family schedule never seemed to be
conducive to them.
The other thing standing in our way was my future career. By
this time, my junior year in High School, I was a very
talented violinist with a bright future. I had already
neglected my practice for weeks, and with the Regional
Orchestra festival coming up, I had no choice but to
prepare. Between lessons, practice, and schoolwork, I had
little free time. My own high school was hosting the event
this year, so I felt there was even more at stake, and being
the home-town concertmaster was my goal, and quite probable.
Still, the music for the festival was difficult, and the
potential choices for the seating audition included the
florid solos from Rimsky-Korsakov's "Russian Easter
Overture." So I practiced. And practiced. And practiced.
January was here, too, and the weather was cold and snowy.
That meant that Dad was always at work, as the restaurant
catered to a lot of local workers who always needed a warm
meal and a hot cup of coffee. It also meant Mom never left
the house. She hated to drive anyway, and slushy roads were
a sure way of keeping her inside. I was lucky in one
respect: I would come home from school to a steaming cup of
hot chocolate or a welcoming bowl of tomato soup. She
reminded me on one of those days that we were hosting a
student at the house during Regional Orchestra. Students
chosen from their districts for the occasion were chosen
from as far away as Pittsburgh, so local families hosted
students for the five days they were there.
"Dale was first chair in his district, so he can come," I
told mom. Dale was a violinist from Butler, and he and I had
hit it off the previous year, so I had requested that he be
our guest student.
"Do you know anything about what he likes? Any kind of food
I should avoid? Any kind of entertainment I can arrange?" I
hadn't even thought of this, so I fudged it. "Just make what
you usually make, he'll love it. We'll be so tired after a
long day of rehearsal that we won't wanna do anything
anyway, just watch TV or videos."
Her comment about "entertainment" also made me wonder about
Dale. Last year, I was so involved in music, I hadn't even
thought about sexual possibilities with him. Our friendship
was one purely based on music, and we enjoyed playing violin
together. Could there be another possibility there? I felt
alternately excited and guilty over my thoughts. Getting
intimate with Dale would be hot, but wouldn't that be
cheating on Dad? I certainly couldn't ask our minister or a
guidance counselor, so I was cursed with confusion, and had
to let it be for now.
I was still thinking about Dale that night when I crawled
into bed. I hadn't jacked off in three days, since I was had
been trying to save myself in case Dad and I had an
opportunity to get naked together. "Fuck saving myself," I
though, and pulled my plump dick through the fly of my
briefs. I was on top of the covers, but the room wasn't yet
cold, as I had just closed the door. I imagined exploring
Dale's body while I fondled my shaft. Was he hairy, or
smooth? I accompanied these musings with an inventory of my
own body hair. I lightly fondled my chest hair, moved down
to my belly, and raked my pubes with my fingers. My body
hair was thick and brown, but my pubic hair was so wiry and
black, and thicker than even my chest hair. Dad's hair was
darker than mine, and I longed for my body to possess such
masculine fuzz. Fuzzy ass? I reached under and played with
my cheeks. My ass wasn't that hairy, and I hadn't even seen
Dad's naked butt yet. I pictured Dale's behind as being
covered with dense, brown hair, surrounding a pink rosebud,
puckered and inviting. I pressed my forefinger into my hole
and wiggled.
I slid my finger in and out as I stroked my cock. I marveled
at my own dickhead, cut, flared wide and flushed with a
violet hue. Dad's cock had blue veins bursting out all over
it, while my shaft seemed evenly colored. His also seemed to
jut straight out, while mine curved down slightly, then up
again, giving it a downward bend in the middle. Would Dale's
cock be long, thick, or both? Was he circumcised? I beat my
meat furiously, and added another finger to the one already
jammed in my asshole. I considered Dad's load. I had not
seen him cum; the first time we were in the dark, and the
next load gushed into my ass. The first one had landed on my
face with force, hot and steamy. Would Dale's load dribble
from his cockhead, milky and gooey, or would it squirt
forcefully? With this and more floating around in my head, I
sprayed a fountain of jism, hosing down my belly and chest,
and nearly squeezing out the two fingers lodged in my ass. I
fell asleep soon after, dozing in a puddle of my cum, as I
so often did.
The snow was falling heavily the next day. I listened
expectantly to the radio for school to be canceled, but it
never was. I pulled on a heavy winter coat and trudged my
way to the bus stop, wishing that the bus would pull up,
just to tell us that the school board had belatedly decided
to call a snow day. Sadly, the bus pulled up and the driver
actually expected us to board, so I moped the entire way.
The gods of weather must have been smiling upon me that day,
though, because halfway through second period, the principal
announced over the intercom that school was being closed due
to a winter storm warning.
We all shouted our approval and conducted a mass exit from
the classroom. Everyone was giving each other high fives, so
I said goodbye to a couple friends and pushed through the
crowded halls to a phone so I could call mom to get a ride.
"Oh no!" she cried, when I told her the news. She
contemplated the situation for a moment, and said meekly,
"You know I can't drive on these roads. Call your father and
see if he can come get you."
"OK, I'll call you back after I talk to him," I said and
hung up. I called the restaurant, and after a long wait, Dad
was on the phone. I brought him up to date, and he too
hemmed and hawed.
"We are getting slammed with people sent home from work
early, Kev," he said. "Why don't you just walk down, and
I'll take you home when I can get away?"
"All right. Let me call Mom." I called Mom back, and she was
obviously relieved. On the other hand, I was not. I may have
worn a winter coat, but I was also wearing jeans, regular
sneakers, and no gloves, and I would be making my way
through foot-high snowdrifts and blistery winds. I could
only blame myself for never dressing appropriately, though,
and I vowed to don warm clothes the next day.
I unhappily tramped through the flurries until I arrived at
the diner. My glasses steamed up the minute I entered,
making me more miserable, and I stomped the snow off my
sneakers and took off my coat. I wiped my glasses off to see
Sheila, the hostess, waiting for me with a warm smile. "Your
dad's waiting for you in his office," she said, and escorted
me through the packed dining room and into the kitchen. Dad
was behind the line with the cooks, slamming food onto
plates and drenched in sweat. I hoped he wasn't perspiring
into the food.
"Hey Kev!" he called, slapping a burger onto the grill.
"Hi Dad!" I replied. "Where's Scott?" Scott was the
executive chef, noticeably missing in action.
"He's on his way. It's much worse in New York than it is
here." I had forgotten that Scott lived in Jamestown, across
the border in New York State.
"I need to get warmed up," I said.
"Help yourself to whatever, soup of the day is tomato, your
favorite, and I can do a burger or a Reuben, lickety-split."
"I'll just have some soup," I said, and filled a large bowl.
I grabbed a soupspoon and headed towards Dad's office.
I sat down in Dad's chair and cleared away some papers. He
was a slob when it came to his desk, but I didn't want to
slop any soup on his stuff, so I slurped carefully. When I
was done, I set the bowl aside and contemplated my wet
jeans. They felt damn uncomfortable. Dad's office was huge
and had a bathroom that had been the old staff restroom
attached to it. Another employee restroom was added during
remodeling a few years back and Dad had this one to himself,
so I went inside to see if it had a hand dryer.
"Bingo!" I thought, when I saw the hand dryer on the wall. I
tested it to make sure it worked, then slid off my pants and
underwear and held them under the airflow.
Without warning, the door flew open and I almost yelled with
fear until I realized it was Dad. He looked me over and
quickly shut and locked the bathroom door.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"My clothes were wet. I was getting dry."
"Hmmm. likely story," he said. His voice became raspier.
"You're a horny little fuck, aren't ya?"
I hadn't even considered sexual possibilities until now. I
went to protest and realized that this was the chance we had
been wanting. I looked right into his eyes and said, "Horny
as hell, stud."
He walked over to me and pulled my shirt off. I was now
completely naked, and while my balls were pulled close to me
from the errant chill, my prick was jutting out forcefully.
"Sit down," he commanded, and pushed me backwards onto the
toilet seat. I landed with a thud. "Let me see you play with
your cock."
I gripped my prick and slowly stroked it, my eyes never
leaving Dad's. While I masturbated, he threw his ball cap on
the floor. It was saturated in sweat, as was his hair and
forehead. His eyes never left mine as he unbuttoned his
soaked dress shirt. I sped up my hand as tufts of hair
peeked through, and then finally filled my view. The shirt
dropped to the ground.
"You like my sweaty chest, fucker?" He took both hands and
tweaked his nipples with his thumb and forefinger. I started
to move towards him and he glared at me. I sat back down and
continued to finger my prick. "I asked a fucking question,
prickhead, and I want an answer!"
Startled, I said, "Yes. Sir."
Dad grinned. "That's better. Now, with your other hand, play
with your asshole."
I licked my finger and dutifully moved my other hand to my
ass. I poked a fingertip inside. Dad seemed pleased, and
unbuckled his belt. He had an enormous lump under the
buckle, but he didn't touch it. He slipped off the belt and
dropped it. He unfastened his dress pants and they, too,
fell to the floor. The small room was starting to smell
funky, and I realized it was because of Dad's sweat. It
smelled remarkably similar to my cummy bedroom, and I fucked
my finger in and out of my asshole.
Dad's underwear was bursting, and I was salivating with
anticipation of seeing his cock again. But... he was waiting.
"Well?" he queried.
"Can I see your cock?" I asked. It must've been the right
answer, and he freed his throbbing 9-incher from his briefs.
It stuck straight out from his hairy crotch and throbbed so
much I could see it bobbing up and down, all by itself. The
blue veins bulged from the shaft, and the head looked even
angrier than I remembered. I was almost ready to spew, so I
slowed down my jacking hand and concentrated on fucking
myself instead.
Dad was covered in sweat and kitchen grease, and he rubbed
his hands across his chest and belly, then through his
pubes. "You want this?" He walked closer and grabbed his
dick, waving it around in front of me. "Yes, sir," I
replied, wanting to suck it but not taking the chance of
making the wrong move.
"Well, I have something for you to eat. But it ain't my
cock, son." Dad turned around, and for the first time, I saw
his naked ass. It was covered with a jungle of dark, thick
hair, and I couldn't take it. Without warning, my cock
erupted. The first two spurts shot high into the air and
landed on my chest with a "splat." Past caring about whether
I was following the rules, I pushed my cock forward and
aimed at Dad. The next three spurts landed squarely on my
father's hairy ass, joining the rivulets of sweat and
dripping onto the floor. If it bothered Dad, he didn't let
on, and I continued to drop my load until only a few drops
trickled from my piss slit. I was panting and fell back
against the toilet.
Dad backed up. He kept moving until his glistening ass was
right in front of me, and I knew what he wanted to feed me.
"Eat out my hole, son. Suck off your jizz and use your
tongue to stick it up my ass." He wouldn't need to ask
again. I dove into his ass, dispensing with subtlety and
jamming my face into his saturated asscheeks. I'd not yet
had a chance to sniff around Dad's butt, and I wasn't sure
what to expect. Luckily, he was soggy and musky, but his
asshole was clean, and I gripped the cheeks while I tongued
around his hole. I lapped at it hungrily, making snarfing
sounds like a dog sniffing for a bone. He was salty and
spicy, and his dank hole welcomed me inside.
"You can touch my cock, Kev, it's ok," he breathed, so I
reached around and seized his tool, stroking it first
towards me, then away. I pulled away from him and lapped at
his cummy asshairs. Tasting my semen was a traditional
pastime, but savoring a load mixed with my father's funk was
new, and I sprouted another hard-on. My hands were too busy
to do anything with it though, as my right hand was filled
with Dad's dick and I had reached around with the other to
fondle his heavy nuts. "Mmmmmmmm, fuck yeah," he sighed,
pushing his butt further back and forcing my face back into
the crevice. I shoved my wad into his rectum with my tongue
and slithered it in and out.
Dad must have been getting close, as his cock thickened in
my grip and his butthole was quivering. He turned, and my
hands fell from his cock and balls. He was panting now, and
even more sweat trickled from his forehead. I was shivering
in anticipation of what could happen next, and my cock was
harder than it had been before, a steel rod planted on my
crotch. Dad stepped forward until his legs were on either
side of the toilet and his cock was poised at my mouth. I
leaned forward to take him in my mouth, but as I did so, Dad
sunk down. I was initially disappointed that his cock was
moving away from my mouth until I realized that Dad's spit-
slick asshole was kissing my cockhead. Everything
disappeared at that moment as I felt the slick hairs on my
father's ass tickle my shaft. Dad slowly began to sit, and
my cock slid in, inch by inch. A high-pitched whine escaped
me and turned into a growl as Dad's tight asshole embraced
my flaming fucktool. After an eternity, Dad had sunk all the
way down, my cock embedded in his ass and his dick thudding
against my belly with every heartbeat.
My father leaned forward and kissed me. Our tongues dueled
and Dad slowly raised and lowered his ass. I grabbed each
hairy asscheek and gripped hard, pushing him up and down. I
couldn't believe how his hole could be velvety, yet so
tight, and my cock throbbed inside him. He responded by
squeezing the walls against my prick, making it pulse
harder.
Dad leaned back and held onto my knees. "Pound it in, you
little dad-fucker, give me all of my son's cock. You know
what I want... give it to me. FUCK ME!" His begging got louder
and louder, and I thought someone might hear us, but the din
of the kitchen drowned out our noisemaking. "Shit, yeah, I
am fucking your ass, Dad. You want my cock? You want it?" We
had reversed roles, and I played it for all it was worth.
"Tell me what you want!"
"I want your dick," he grunted, riding me faster, his brick-
hard cock and full balls banging against my belly. Strings
of pre-cum belched from his dickhead, and still he
perspired. His entire body was coated in a damp sheen of
sweat.
"What else, asshole?"
He rode even faster, and I bucked in unison. My balls were
drawing closer to my body. "Your load, son. Give me your
goddamned load. Shit, I want it... need it... shoot your wad,
Kev, all of it, squirt it inside me."
His cock was flailing around, whipping clear drops of pre-
cum around, and his face was red. I let go of his ass and
tweaked his nipples hard.
"Fuuuuuckkkkk... Shit yeah... here it cummms kid!"
Without so much as a stroke, Dad's dick burst, thick streams
of his creamy load spurting from his flared cockhead. For
the first time, I saw my father's cumshot, and it squirted
forcefully out of his cock, the first streams hitting my
chest. I grabbed his dick and aimed it towards me. I felt
his cock throb and the next jet erupted into my open mouth.
Each wad Dad sprayed out landed on my face and tongue, until
there was no more jism to eat. The last few drops seeped
from his dripping cock.
There was no turning back, and I grabbed Dad's hips and
fucked madly, his hole gripping tightly after his climax.
"Dump your load inside my ass, son, fill me up," he grunted.
"Yeah, Dad, I am giving it up, giving it up for you," I
cried. "Fucking shit, here it cums, fucker!!!" I plunged my
teenage dick into my dad's sweaty asshole one last time and
held it there. My orgasm started inside my ass and worked
its way through my balls, up my shaft, and then I burst.
"FUUUCK!" I shouted, spouting loads of white-hot juice into
his ass. I held my dick there, letting it pack Dad's asshole
with my wad of semen. My legs were shaking with the
excitement, yet my cream poured out in an endless stream.
Finally, my cock had spewed its last few drops and I leaned
back. Dad's cock was still plump and he made no move to free
his asshole of my cock. I could feel his load beginning to
congeal on my face and giggled.
"What?" he asked breathlessly.
"Your cum is drying on my face, and it tickles."
He thought about this a moment, and I watched his cock get a
little bit harder. A few drops of liquid dripped from it and
onto my tummy, and I thought he might be cumming again. I
knew I was wrong when a yellow stream began to flow from his
cock.
"Let me help clean it off," he said, and with my cock still
jammed in his ass, he let loose with a deluge of pungent
piss. It blasted against my face, and I squeezed my eyes
shut, not having considered this possibility. It seemed a
little gross, yet I admit that I was turned on by how hot my
dad's piss was, and how acrid the scent was, combining
naturally with the funky smells of sweat and semen in the
air. I wasn't ready to taste it, but I grinned as it
splashed against my face. Soon, my father was running out of
piss, and it gushed a little onto my neck and chest and then
dribbled onto my stomach.
"Sorry, your old man's legs are a little tired," he said,
and he stood up, my cock plopping out of his hole with a
squish. "Let's get the hell outta here before your mom gets
too worried."
"Dad."
"Yes, Kev?"
"I love you."
Dad pulled his underwear on and came over to me, where I was
still seated on the toilet lid. He hugged me and said, "I
love you too, son. I am so glad we had this time together.
It was killing me not being able to be with you."
I was so glad he felt the same way I did. "Me too, Dad."
I stood and walked to the sink. I ran the water, ready to
rinse my face, and stopped to look in the mirror. There were
clumps of semen dotting my face and his piss gave it a
glistening sheen. I smiled at my reflection and washed Dad's
fluids away.
When we left the restaurant, no one gave us a second glance,
as it was still slammed with customers. When we got home,
Mom greeted us with hugs, but we pulled away quickly. "The
kitchen was roasting hot, and I was already all wet from the
snow," I explained. Dad nodded in agreement. We took turns
taking baths that night, and I went to bed very early,
exhausted from my snowy trek and my dad's deflowering.
Dad didn't visit that night. At least, I don't think he did.
But I remember dreaming of his lips pressed against mine,
the sweet smell of his aftershave warming my heart. I woke
to find myself alone, and I tottered across the bedroom to
close the door. When I pulled it shut, I was certain I
caught a whiff of Old Spice.